Come Undone
by Miss Shannon
Summary: Miss Parker suddenly decides to stop chasing and go on the run herself. What has made her leave? Will she be caught? Who is now chasing whom? And can she possibly find herself in the process? Chapter One is up!
1. Prologue

**Come Undone**

by Miss Shannon

**Epilogue**

* * *

Miss Parker had always been afraid of running, afraid of turning her back on what she knew in favor of the unknown and unchartered. Then one day she just did.

Vanishing off the radar was never simple and especially difficult if it was a powerful and evil corporation's radar. She had one advantage, though: She had been head of security at the Centre long enough to know a thing or two about tracking down people and, consequently, about how to avoid being tracked down by Centre security.

First of all: withdraw cash. Not all at once and not amounts that could make you look suspicious. She had become quite adapt at it over the course of the previous months. A thousand here, presumably to spend on shoes that had cost a fracture (and she had never worn them once as they had been $ 39,95 and she would not be found dead in cheap shoes like that), a couple of thousands there to pay for a paint job that had never been carried out, five hundred while chasing for Jarod and so on. She was now in possession of twenty thousand in cash which would get her someplace. Getting out of the country was tricky, however, as there was a lot of airport security including CCTV that would routinely be reviewed by Centre staff, so she decided to stay in the US for a while. She had acquired a fake passport for later, though, and she kind of liked the name Veronica Davis.

Packing light was and would always be a problem but she had got herself under control. No more racy suits and high heels for her if she wanted to be able to make quick exits. While shopping for jeans, leather pants, sensible boots and simple tops, it had begun to dawn on her that she might have stood a better chance of catching Jarod if she hadn't always ben chasing him in stillettos and mini-skirts. She had only taken her favorite pair and a plain black suit as you never knew when you might need them.

On the way out of Blue Cove, she stopped at the side of the road and placed her already switched off cell phone on the ground to first crush the SIM card then the phone itself with the heel of her new boots.

The evening was warm and the fragrant air blew her hair away from her face through the open window of the old black sedan she had traded her Porsche in for. The number plates were false and from Michigan – just in case.

Miss Parker threw a look back at the bag on the backseat that now contained her life. Her hands were clasped tightly around the steering wheel while her future stretched wide in front of her in the endless velvet sky.

Then, driving by the city sign of Blue Cove, Miss Parker smiled for the first time in a long while. Just before the tears began to cloud up her vision.


	2. Wounds

**1**

**Wounds**

* * *

She stopped by the first lake she came by, gravel crunching beneath the tires of her car and then under her heavy leather boots when she walked around the car and opened its trunk. The file that lay inside looked familiar by now, the paper yellowed and stained in places by what seemed like a hundred people's greasy hands. However, that was not why she felt repulsed when she reached out her hand to pick it up. The muddy green folder felt heavy in her hands despite the fact that its contents consisted of only a few sheets of paper and some photos. Despite her initial disgust, she ran her thumb over the label at the side of it.

Snapping out of her thoughts a moment later, she slammed the trunk shut with more force than necessary and walked towards the shore, steps long and fast but unhurried. She had waited long enough to do this to cherish the moment. In the distance, the sun was sinking, dipping the lake's calm surface into golden light. She opened the folder and looked at the first page then placed her hand flatly on top of it, the touch almost gentle before she made a sudden fist and ripped it out. The noise sounded sweet to her ears and she found that it mixed surprisingly well with the gentle lapping of the water against the shore. Slowly and one by one, taking her time, she fed the pages to the lake, watching them slowly soak up the water. The ink on them faded, words disappearing for good and the paper dissolved as she drowned the past.

When she was finally out of pages, she retrieved the photos from the pocket at the back of the file and let the folder itself drop to the ground beside her. Her hand found the cigarette lighter in the pocket of her jeans and as she flicked it on, the flames started liking at the first picture almost instantly. She watched the images disappear slowly as the paper burned and only dropped the burning sheet into the water when the fire almost touched her fingers. Again, she burned them one by one, feeling both triumphant and horrified at the same time. When she finally stood empty-handed, the sun had set and the sky had turned a soothing dark blue. The first stars were twinkling in the distance and if she listened carefully, she could hear crickets in the nearby shrubs. The smell of fire faded and was replaced with the spicy scent of grass that lingered heavily. Miss Parker took a step back and leaned against the back door of her car that was still warm with the day's sunlight.

If only she could burn the images in her mind the way she had just burned the physical evidence.

She turned around, not yet ready to remain still and fill the silence with her thoughts and entered her car again. She had been driving for three days and had only stopped at a few motels for a shower and a few hours of sleep. Now she was exhausted and she knew that it was time to settle down somewhere for a few days to regain her strength and decide where she should go next. Her foot firmly on the accelerator, she enjoyed the feeling of being able to just drive away and to be able to leave everything behind.

Could she ever?

She signalled to get off the highway at the next opportunity. Another town sign, another name consisting of two words hundreds of miles on, she thought bitterly. Would Saint Mary's, randomly chosen for its close proximity to a lake, prove to bring her any more luck than Blue Cove? The town was nestled against softly sloping hills covered in wood and framed by the lake she had just rounded on the highway on one side and cornfields on the other. Still, it did not look like a rural farm town. The presence of several cute-looking bed and breakfasts made her guess that it served as a weekend getaway to the nearby city. Fair enough, she thought. If she was going to be stuck here, she might as well be comfortable. Night was falling and she hadn't enjoyed more than roughly four hours of fitful sleep during the previous three nights, so she was exhausted. Miss Parker pulled her car up to the hotel closest to the lake and leaned her head back against her headrest for a moment, staring at her own reflection in the rearview mirror. She should have really changed her hair, but since she had left everything about her identity behind, she was not yet ready to let go of the familiar chestnut-colored locks.

With a sigh, she turned around, grabbed her bag from the backseat and stepped out of the car. The air was warm and still smelled faintly of sugar from the nearby bakery that had already closed down for the night. There were no chain-stores or cheap fast food joints around. Instead, every shop looked as if it had been taken right out of a romantic movie with flower pots and wooden porches, pink doilies and polished red roofs. Miss Parker hated cheesiness with a vengeance, but today it seemed almost comforting. She walked up to the door and found herself faced with a kind-looking elderly woman with bluish curls and friendly cornflower eyes that was a cliché but still a nice change from the grumpy motel clerks that had been undressing her with their very eyes as she had encountered them.

"Good evening, my dear," the woman greeted her. "How can I help you?"

Miss Parker was still pondering when anyone had last called her "dear", but then gave up wondering. That must have been ages ago. And she had probably broken their arm for it.

"I would like a room," she said.

"Of course. We have one overlooking the lake."

"Great," Miss Parker said, shifting her weight from one tired leg on to the other. The woman seemed to sense her impatience.

"Your name, please?" she asked, still kind.

The simplest questions could catch you off guard when you were not used to being on the run.

"Uhm," Miss Parker began, her eyes darting around the room quickly, taking in the dark furniture and polished wooden floor and light blue walls for inspiration. The curtains were plain white, the coffee table next to the black rattan couch adorned with seashells. What on earth could she call herself? She did not want to use the name on her brand new passport, yet, as that would make her easier to track down. Finally, she spotted a gossip magazine whose cover was graced by a smiling Katie Holmes and turned back to the woman who was waiting, pen poised. She shook her head slightly and attempted a distracted smile.

"Sorry. I am a little tired. What was your question?"

The woman smiled back openly, a quality Miss Parker secretly envied in people.

"Don't worry. You look tired alright. Breakfast is until eleven so you can sleep in tomorrow. I was asking for your name."

"Of course," Miss Parker faked a laugh. "Monica Holmes."

The woman wrote her name down in a leather-bound book and chuckled. "Two Holmeses in the same day. I didn't realize the name was that common."

She closed the book and turned around to take a key off its hook. "Your room's number four. Right down this way."

Miss Parker accepted the key whose ring was shaped like a seashell. She sensed a theme here. Slowly, she followed the woman down the hall. Apparently, the bed and breakfast consisted of only four rooms. While she straightened out pillows, the woman introduced herself as Rosemary and gestured towards the patio doors.

"You're sharing the patio with the guest next door, so don't be surprised. Breakfast is on the porch if the weather allows. They have predicted a bit of rain, though, so we might have to eat inside. And don't worry about sleeping in. Our cleaners come in the evening, so nobody is going to disturb you. Is there anything else you need, Miss Holmes?"

Miss Parker declined and sat down on the bed once Rosemary had left. The walls were a bright blue that she was pretty sure she would be sick of after a few days but she liked the plush white carpet and linen drapes and curtains. The seashell theme continued and she was not sure that she liked it. Rubbing the sore muscles in the back of her neck, she walked into the bathroom and dropped her clothes onto the tiles. She would probably have to find a laundrette soon, as her collection of clothes had shrunk considerably and she hated wearing things twice. Maybe she would have to change her position on that, she thought.

Stepping out of her trousers and underwear, she pulled her sweater and top over her head and turned to face the mirror sideways. Carefully, she ran her hand over the bandage that was still fastened to side of her stomach. For the first time she did not feel concerned as for the premise's poor hygiene standards as she peeled it off. She hissed with the pain the motion caused and almost blindly reached for the bottle of disinfectant she kept in her toiletry bag. She winced as the soaked cotton ball touched the wound.

Tears stung her eyes when she continued quickly, concernced that she would not be able to start again once she had stopped. Finally, she finished cleaning the wound but her hands still trembled when she applied a fresh bandage. Unceremoniously popping two Advils into her mouth, she stopped to stare at her blood-shot eyes. When had she last bothered with make-up? The sleepless nights prior to her flight were written across her face just as clearly as the pain in her side that was now fading back to the ever present dull ache that had become her sneaky companion nowadays. She took a quick shower, brushed her teeth and put on a large t-shirt and shorts before crawling under the wonderfully fresh-smelling covers. After placing her gun underneath the second pillow like an old friend, she switched on the bedside lamp and closed her eyes.

Miss Parker was not usually a sound sleeper but exhaustion seemed to have gotten the better of her and she woke to the smell of fresh bread and the drumming of the rain on the roof above her. For a moment she did not care that she was a fugitive or that her side was hurting worse than the night before. For a moment, she imagined the taste of the bread in her mouth and the comfort of being able to spend a day in a clean room with a nice bed instead of her car, driving farther away from the only life she had ever known. Despite the mouth-watering smell wafting over from the nearby bakery, Miss Parker stayed in bed, nodding off time and again, unable to grasp a clear thought. Finally, at two in the afternoon, she dragged herself out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom to shower. The water felt cold on her skin although it was supposed to be hot so she exited the shower more quickly than she had previously been intended to. She had been planning on taking her time with her hair and make-up today, but found that she was still too exhausted and her hands were trembling. She was probably just hungry.

She grabbed her hand bag, placed her gun inside and walked out of the room, down the hallway and exited the small hotel. The street wasn't particularly busy. Maybe it was the rain or else the town was even more sleepy than she had expected it to be. Either way, Miss Parker did not mind. She didn't have an appetite but could feel her stomach rumble impatiently so she went for the bakery and bought a sandwich and a coffee to go that she devoured by the lake, indifferent to the feeling of rain soaking her clothes. She didn't mind as long as it made her feel alive. She had expected running to feel more liberating but it was really just terrifying. You had to be constantly on guard and suspicious of everyone you met. She felt especially ashamed for missing Broots. It was tempting to purchase a disposable cell phone to make just that one call and tell him she was okay, but she could not risk being traced or putting Broots in danger.

The wet leaves were whispering in a slight breeze that brought more rain. She put her empty coffee cup and half-eaten sandwich down and stared over the troubled surface of the lake towards the bed and breakfast. At the Centre, she had been annoyed by Broots and the constantly prying eyes of Raines, her father and whomever else was watching. Here, she was all alone. At first she had cherished that feeling. Now she felt lonely and that feeling was just what she had always been so afraid of. There was nothing to occupy her mind, no chase to plan or carry out. Just the pain, both physical and mental, raging away inside her. She did not dare touch her side that felt as if it was on fire. She lifted her gaze again to calm herself and narrowed her eyes to get a better look at the patio doors of her room that indeed led on to a small porch. Suddenly, she froze. She had made sure the door was closed and locked when she had left her room. Nobody was supposed to be in there as the cleaner was scheduled for the evening. She stumbled to her feet and despite her exhaustion, a jolt of adrenaline surged through her body. She could feel more pain in her side and for the first time she realized that her skin felt hotter than it should on a crisp day like this one.

She watched in horror, as the patio door opened slightly wider and a figure stepped out. The man had turned his back at her but she could see from where she was standing that he was wearing a dark suit and a trenchcoat. Standard Sweeper attire, she thought. Though her instincts told her to run, she remained glued to the spot for a moment in horror, the world blurring in front of her eyes. Why on earth did her side hurt that much today? Hadn't it been improving lately? She could only watch as the man turned around slowly. He had probably caught sight of her as he suddenly turned away to storm back in, probably on his way out to get her. Miss Parker broke into an instant run toward her car, not caring that her clothes and toiletries were still in the room. She had her money and her gun and that was all she needed. Her side was burning like fire when she half ran half stumbled up the path she had come from. All she needed was to reach her car before he could. She searched for her keys in her bag and was momentarily relieved to find the cold metal digging into her palm. Her hands were shaking so badly that it took her a moment to unlock her car and put the keys into the ignition. She could hear hurried steps on the porch when she had finally managed to start the car. Without looking back, she put the car in gear and sped off, her heart thundering and her skin burning. She drove shakily back on to the highway and pressed the accelerator down as hard as possible but the white lines on the asphalt were blurring and she could not focus her gaze enough to prevent double vision. Panic was rising inside her when a second car appeared in her rearview mirror and she attempted to drive faster. The needle rose up on the speed indicator but the old car groaned grudgingly.

For the first time in years, Miss Parker prayed.


End file.
